No Happy Ending Fem Lock
by MrsMalfoy12345
Summary: Sherlock Holmes is your regular teenager. She's juggling school, family and extra curricular activities. Only her activities include DNA testing and crime scene analysis. John Watson is juggling his wayward sister and money problems. When an offer comes along from none other than Mycroft Holmes will he accept?
1. Chapter 1

"She's a good girl Mr Watson. Of that I can assure you." Mycroft Holmes looked at the young man sitting in front of him. The boy was no older than seventeen. With hair that, depending on the way it caught the light, was either blonde or a light brown.

"I'm sure she is sir,' the young man said, treating Mycroft as an adult even though he was only a few years his senior "but what does that have to do with me?"

Mycroft leaned back on his chair and crossed his hands over his chest "Mr Watson it has come to my attention that you will be attending the same classes as my sister this term. True?

The boy nodded "And?"

"I basically want you to tell me how she gets on," Mycroft's eyes flickered to the door "she's been having some trouble recently. I just want weekly reports on her friends, classes, activities. Whatever you can get me."

"How am I supposed to do that?" he asked.

"I'll leave that up to you," Mycroft said "do we have a deal?"

"I'm sorry sir but I couldn't spy on someone. It wouldn't feel right." He answered.

Mycroft laughed. It was a sharp, crisp laugh. "You're a smart boy Mr Watson. What are your plans for after leaving school? Do you have any plans?"

The boy cleared his throat "I want to be a doctor sir. In the British Army."

"Well you seem loyal enough to be a soldier." Mycroft told him.

"Doctor sir. I don't want to kill anyone. I don't think I could." The boy blushed.

"I could pay you." Mycroft quickly changed the subject.

"I...couldn't" The boy shook his head.

"What can I do then?" Mycroft asked "I need someone to look after my little sister." He stressed the word little.

The boy sighed. "I'll do it."

Mycroft stood and walked to the door. The boy followed.

"Thank you Mr Watson." he shook his hand.

"John." the boy said.

Mycroft nodded. "Goodbye John Watson."

School was always a pain for her. The same boring routine day in and day out. Nothing was ever interesting. She had been doing the same advanced science work for the last year. Work that her classmates would never dream of trying. In the beginning she had tried to make friends. Had tried to be nice to people. But her pride and mind always got the better of her. She didn't mean to upset people. At least not at first. She only really made the words hurt when people gave her reason to. She had a tendency to let her words slip without thinking of what consequences they would have. Human emotions were not really something she cared for. Who in her position would? Especially after her upbringing. She had grown up with her older brother who was almost nothing short of a young playboy. He was clever, economically in the know and popular. Her brother practically had to raise her at times. Their parents were always away on some lavish and expensive trip or holiday, leaving their two children to get on with a some what normal life. Although with the money that Sherlock and Mycroft Holmes had growing up, who would have had a normal life? Sherlock had always been a difficult child. Or so she was told. Apparently she had always had a short temper and had went in moods if she didn't get her own way. She had transfer ed from her private boarding school to her current public school in London just over a year ago. She had just turned sixteen and her brother Mycroft had decided that going to a public school might calm her down and make her mind her manners. He had thought that the cold, hard temperament of common children as he called them would stop her from speaking her mind and being rude. He was wrong. She didn't miss her old school. She didn't miss the people or the lessons. But she missed the freedom. She missed her teachers and the peace she had gotten. Her teachers had always given her credit and had always respected her brains and judgment. One thing she could say for her new school though, was that the people had more of a personality. Back at her boarding school people had been the same. Stuck up, boring and droll. Here they were all different. Although the people were over dramatic and cliched, they were exciting and different. The people thought they were in a movie. A movie that they all expected to be the stars of. If it was a movie she was an extra with no real purpose.

"Are we dreaming Miss Holmes?" a quiet but confident voice asked.

Sherlock looked up and sighed.

"No sir." she said.

"Oh really?" her chemistry teacher Mr Gryce asked.

"Really sir." she replied smiling.

His light, nearly colourless, brown eyes swept over her.

He laughed and Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

"Is there a problem sir?" she asked.

The people sitting around her table were silent and watching the discussion.

Mr Gryce's face turned almost purple. "Miss Holmes I will not accept your attitude in my class is that understood? Your advanced intelligence does not give you the right to speak to me like that."

Sherlock looked down and feigned guilt.

"Now Miss Holmes, please tell me what we have been discussing." Mr Gryce smirked

The whole class was now watching silently. Sherlock quickly scanned her eyes over the classroom. There was nothing on the stark white board at the front of the room. No worksheets had been handed out. The lesson had clearly been all verbal. She snuck a look at her lab partner's jotter. He had scribbled down a note in light blue ink that was barley legible. His handwriting was neat though.

"Well?" Mister Gryce asked impatiently. He was still smirking. She could tell.

"Chemical Synthesis sir." She smiled sweetly.

Mister Gryce grumbled and walked over to his desk to continue the lesson. Sherlock smiled to herself. Getting one up on her teachers was always fun. Especially the slimy Mr Gryce. His hair was thin, greying and stuck to his forehead. He was quite small but thin. A knock at the door silenced Mr Gryce's monotone voice. A blonde boy of average build was standing awkwardly at the door.

"Get in.' Mr Gryce snapped.

The boy walked in quickly and swallowed. "John Watson sir, I just moved her from..."

"Just sit down." Mister Gryce said sighing.

The boy walked over to Sherlock's table and sat across from her. He held out his hand smiling. His hazel eyes were bright and sparkling.

"John Watson." he said

She stared at his hand. It was soft and slightly plump compared to her rough, slim hand. She grasped his hand firmly. Smooth fingers gripped calloused ones in a tight handshake. Sherlock smiled.

"I'm Sherlock," she said. "Sherlock Holmes."


	2. Chapter 2

Sherlock Holmes was unsure of what to think of the boy sitting in front of her. She usually had an opinion on someone from the moment she met them. He though, was confusing. He had looked awfully confused and shy when he first entered the classroom but here he was now in a firm handshake with one of the school's biggest outcasts. She needed answers and she needed them quickly.  
"The names John. John Watson." The boy smiled, letting go of her hand.  
"I know." She said simply as she averted her eyes from the boy's steady gaze.  
"How?" He asked looking awfully confused.  
Sherlock raised an eyebrow in disbelief. Was he being serious or was he joking around? "You said your name twice. One when you came in and the second time about three minutes ago."  
"Oh." John said before bursting into quiet fits of laughter.  
Sherlock rolled her eyes  
"So," John said "can I see your notes?"  
Sherlock raised an eyebrow "Why?"  
She glared at John when he burst into fits of laughter. "What is it? What's so funny?"  
A loud but raspy cough shook John from his laughter. Mr Gryce was standing at the foot of their table glaring at the pair. Sherlock looked up, pasting a sweet smile onto her face.  
"Sir, how may I help you?" She said mockingly.  
Mr Gryce narrowed his eyes at her "This is none of your business Miss Holmes, unless you are admitting to laughing with Mr Watson during my class. If this is the case," he smirked "then I shall have to give you a detention along side Mr Watson."  
Sherlock looked him in the eye, unfazed "It is my business sir, seeing as Mr Watson is now my lab partner."  
John was staring at Sherlock with wide eyes. They barely knew each other and she was willing to get herself into trouble with him. Mr Gryce however had turned an unhealthy shade of red. His cheeks were so red they looked as if they would burn a person if they touched them and his eyes had bulged to the size of two pound coins. When he spoke he sounded as if his throat had been scratched by a lion. Breathy and hoarse.  
"Detention. Both of you. After school." He fumed.  
"Sir?" Sherlock pushed further.  
"What!" Mr Gryce shouted, looking as if he was going to combust.  
"Well you hadn't explained where our detention would be held or what it would involve and I wanted to be clear." She smirked.  
"In here. Cleaning." Mr Gryce said just as the bell sounded.  
Sherlock and John both picked up their bags and walked out of class quickly. Like the rest of their class, they wanted to spend as little time with Gryce as possible and the potential crushing by other students was a risk they were willing to take. Sherlock checked her watch and without another word to John, she walked away towards the spare science rooms. John followed her wordlessly.

Sherlock clenched her fists and made an exasperated sound as she pushed open the door of the lab that she was given constant access to. A perk of being a top student. Well that's what she liked to say it was. It was in fact a perk of solving a private crime for the science head. She pushed the door with such force that her lab companion Mark jumped in panic.  
"Sherlock!" He gasped.  
Sherlock ignored him and walked straight towards the single computer at the back of the room. She could feel the eyes of Mark on her as she rapidly typed in her password.  
"What is it Mark?" She fumed.  
She knew without turning that his eyes were now wide and that his mouth had probably formed an almost perfect o. She turned towards him, raising an eyebrow. Mark Hooper was a quiet young man of average height and build with bushy brown hair that took on an almost black shade in the bright laboratory lights. Sherlock had known him since she had moved to the school and had worked out everything that she deemed useful about him. He was blindingly good at chemistry and wanted to work in a morgue. Not an altogether unpleasant character, Mark was as close to a friend as Sherlock had. Not that she needed or wanted friends. She was alone. Alone, happy and protected. She dragged her attention back to Mark. There were bags under his eyes and his tie was askew. A minor detail to some but it meant a lot here as Mark was not one for having his uniform messy. He was always out to make a good impression. There was something else though. Something she couldn't see. She discreetly sniffed the air. Which was not an uncommon thing for her to do. She had it. She smirked and turned back to face the computer.  
"Which twin was it?" She asked coyly.  
Mark sucked in a breath "What do you mean?"  
"I may be clever dear Mark but I cannot tell twins with whom I have never spoken with apart simply by their perfume." She said sounding annoyed.  
"The tall one." Mark said quietly.  
Sherlock nodded "Of course"  
Mark started droning on about the girl and him. Sherlock rolled her eyes and blocked him out and began to lose herself in her work.  
"Hello?" A familiar voice asked.  
Sherlock groaned and turned to the door. John Watson was standing in the doorway looking in with a wide grin plastered on his face. Sherlock stood up and grabbed Mark by the collar and gently shoved him towards the door. Mark made a sound if protest.  
"Sherlock! What's wrong?" He asked.  
Sherlock waved her hands in the air vaguely. Mark smoothed down his shirt and shook his head.  
"Come on. I'm sure there's lots you could be doing just now. Kidding the wrong twin or working on some calculation." She said, shutting the door on Mark.  
She turned to John "Sorry about him. He's my...something. I don't know."  
John looked at her in a confused way "I can leave if you want? Come back later"  
"I would like that but I need your business so to speak." She said.  
Sherlock leaned back onto a work bench, placing her hands behind her back to prop herself up.  
"Well I erm," John started.  
"You heard that I was looking for a flat mate. Please don't bore me with your pointless noises." She grumbled.  
"Well yes, how did you," John said "wait. Sherlock Holmes. No point in asking is there?"  
Sherlock smiled "Not really."  
John smiled and stood awkwardly in the doorway.  
"I heard that you wanted to be a soldier. Well a doctor, but in the army. True?" Sherlock asked.  
"Yes. I would love to do it. I actually did a course before I came here. Military training. Harsh but fun nonetheless." John grinned.  
"Well," Sherlock said whilst logging off of her computer "I must dash. So I'll see you later then. A few pointers. I play violin, loudly. I have unusual sleeping and eating habits and live with my landlady Mrs Hudson. The flat itself is owned by my brother so there will be no adults around ever. Unless there is a case. So any problems? If you cannot put up with any of these things then I need another flat mate."  
Sherlock brushed past John and began walking down the corridor.  
"Wait," John called after her "you haven't told me the address."  
Sherlock turned and smirked "The address is 221B Baker Street."  
"Thank you. And detention?" He asked.  
He never got an answer. All he got from Sherlock was a lopsided smile and a wink.


End file.
